


The Burning

by PipPiper



Category: Seduce Me (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Seduce Me the Otome, Seduce me otome, Will add characters as I go, eventual smutty goodness, sm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipPiper/pseuds/PipPiper
Summary: Mika Anderson was always searching. Her wildest dreams couldn't have prepared her for well...this.





	1. Coming Home

Disclaimer: _I discovered Seduce Me about two weeks ago, and I am already in wayyyy deep. The story and all of its characters are very well developed. The plot? Mwah, I’m in love. All rights of course to the amazing creator Michaela Laws. She and her team and all of the fantastic supporters of the fandom. I hope this story does it even an iota of justice._

/

The fading engine left only silence. Only wind. Only cold.

Only _her._

Her right hand nearly pulverized the stiff canvas handle of her duffle bag. The normally durable fabric wilting against her whitened palm.

_Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck this._

Angry tears misted her vision; threatening to steal away what precious light was there in the gloom.

Narrow-eyed she furiously scrubbed at them. Her exhale harsh and shaky.

 _“Come on._ You promised you wouldn’t do this!” Pride might keep her on her feet, but it was proving to be a piss poor band aid for her heart.

“I…I _promised_ myself.” Small. Pathetic. Half-assed even to her own ears.

“No.” Mika choked quietly. Then, more firmly, _“No.”_

Shoulders rightfully squared, she allowed herself a long look over her left side. Her father was long gone. Her old life with him. A steadying breath saw her forward. Braced each step of her small booted feet as she approached grandpa’s—

The ornate doorknob was sudden, heavy in her clenching hand.

“—my…my _home._ ” The revelation bowled into her, a freight train of terror and giddiness that forced her to curl over her outstretched forearm. But only for a moment.

A dark pool stretched before her through the decorative glass.

“I’m here grandpa. I’ve come _home._ ”


	2. Just A Drop Will Do

Disclaimer: _All rights of course to the amazing creator Michaela Laws. Oh god, my heart broke writing this. Poor, Matthew. And poor Mika._

/

The main lobby was freaking freezing. Chicago winds cruel on the tail end of Fall.

Shivering, her bare hands sought the refuge of her armpits; heavy bags hitting the ground with a muffled _thump_.

 _Thank God I have a mind for practicality over fashion._ Hissing softly at the chill, she awkwardly bumped the cumbersome door shut with her hip. Trying to ignore the way the wood leeched heat at the quick contact. She was engulfed by darkness—familiar in the void of the house but still unsettled.

   “ _OW!_ Stupid end table!” The light switch was a clicking relief in her numb hand. “At least dad didn’t skimp on the utility bill.”

_I could laugh if this whole mess wasn’t such a fucking travesty._

In other situations, she might have been comforted by her own dark humor, but the reality of her loneliness wasn’t any prettier in the light. She bent over to unlace her boots, kicking one leg then the other as they flew haphazardly across the tile.

Her nose turned disdainfully up, an almost savage smirk curling her mouth. _No one here to lecture me about tidiness after all._

She hoped she could dreg up coffee in the…in _her_ cupboards. Would she ever get used to saying it?

“At least I’ll have a warm companion to reminisce sleep over.” Tomorrow _was_ Saturday.

Scrubbing vigorously at her goosebumps, she padded on thick cotton socks into the kitchen, flicking on lights as she went. The kitchen was a credit to modern décor. An open space that was brimming with the latest domestic comforts.

Piddling found her rewarded well. Settling her with the familiar warmth of old routine. Hefting her diminutive body into one of the island barstools, Mika gustily sighed.

Green eyes wistful, as if she could glean some hopeful answer in the swirling cosmos of coffee.

“Grandpa always said I was more cream than bitter truth. I guess I’m starting to get what he meant.”

She scoffed, shaking her head against her own thoughts. Both hands clasping the mug like a hipster, like an old woman—like a lifeline.

“Maybe things won’t be so bad. Maybe this is what I need.” Father always disapproved of her nervous tick to talk aloud to herself.

Her nose wrinkled stubbornly, _but Dad isn’t here, now is he?_

Her mood lifted as she brought the cup to her lips. She was only one hearty gulp away from a modicum of true peace.

The moment that burning liquid touched the back of her throat, a resounding crack like gunfire echoed through the kitchen. Choking, she gagged on the coffee, forcing agonized heat to spurt out her nose. Grandpa’s favorite mug clattered to the counter. Large pieces of the porcelain splintering into jagged shards.

She didn’t spare the time to mourn it.

Still hacking, she shot to her feet. Pupils blown wild and wide as she chased the origins of the sound to the lobby.

_Ohmygod! Ohhmygod…whatthefuck…what the FUCK was that?!_

Her brain scattered to the four winds. Instinct curling her tiny hand around a formidable cleaver in the knife block. Vibrating in the nest of her horror.

The air was buzzing. Silent and thick with a presence that definitely didn’t _belong._

_Whatever this is. It sure as hell isn’t…human._

An energy was sudden underneath her veins. Bewildered, her eyes jumped to the wrist of her hand clutching the knife. Tentatively, she rubbed over the pulsing skin. She half expected some creature to push _back._

 Her veins jumped and throbbed with electricity. Alien and familiar and… _grandpa?_

Hovering on the doorframe’s edge she knew she had just been thrown another curveball. _Another_ turning point.   

 _Haven’t I suffered enough in one week universe?!_  The accusatory glare upwards told her how little fucks the universe gave her.

“Okay, _okay._ It is now or never Anderson. Big girl panties activate!”

The war cry in her mind was nary a squeak on her lips as she dove in to the lobby. Rolling to a crouch and twinging her bruised side in the process.

She pushed the pain viciously to the back of her mind. _Not now. Not now._

Her mouth fell open. Gobsmacked at the atrocity laying before her.

Her foyer was a bloody war zone.

A small figure sprawled on the floor. Obsidian hair a curling disaster against the grain of the turned head.

 _Definitely male,_ she mused in horror. _Oh my god. Is he bleeding?!_

Crimson so vivid it was black. Ick coagulated into chunks of mystery gore around him. Thick rivers of blood pooling underneath.

_Duh, idiot! OF COURSE HE IS BLEEDING!_

Forgetting herself, she stumbled over her sock covered feet in a rush to get to him. She couldn’t even gag at the wet _squick_ of it underneath her toes. “H—hey!!! Are you okay?!”  

Nothing.

“Hey! _HEY!”_ She shook as she knelt beside him. “You better not be dead! It is incredibly freaking rude to bleed out on a stranger’s floor!”

The knife clattering to the floor, she took his bloody jaw gingerly into her palm. Turning his head revealed a face as young as her own. Frantically running her eyes down his chest, she found the source of the bleeding from multiple wounds. Some sluggish others still rapidly pouring blood.

 _This just happened._ The realization shot cold fear through her.

“Someone… _something_ just tried to kill you.” Another quick scan reaffirmed they just _might_ succeed.

Someone had tried to _murder_ him. On _her_ property.

“Obviously this would happen to me on my first night here.” Her terror made her shake a little too roughly, pawing at the injured boy. “Wake up! _Please, please, do something.”_

A wretched groan tore from the boy’s lips. Blood smearing across her already stained palm. Sharp white teeth clenching and stained. A hazy blue, too blue to be human, appeared behind shuttered eyes.

Her large eyes took in his working throat. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed desperately. More blood poured out of his mouth, dry flecks flying as he gripped her wrist and arm with monstrous strength.

“P—” he gurgled, coughing wetly, “ _P—please…”_

Sudden strength jerked her closer, inches from his barely raised face. Mika, despite herself, leaned closer, straining to catch his words.

“Please _what?!”_

His last reserve gave out, trembling hands falling as he slumped back.

His eyes were pleading. Scared and full of a fear so vast and primal Mika’s own eyes were suddenly overflowing.

_“K—kiss me…a-any—anywhere.”_

For an eternal moment, their eyes were locked. His chest straining to rise and fall. To keep breathing. A final labored breath hissing through his lips; begging.

_A death sigh._

“NO!” She didn’t know how to stop it. Didn’t know how to save him. _So, she did._

Her mind blanked as she slammed her face into his neck. Lips wrapped around his fading pulse. She rained kisses down. Across. Anything. Anything. _Anything._ Just to stop the inevitable situation under her from happening. From being true.

Her tears saturated his skin. Saliva and blood a disgusting lie she vehemently denied.

She cried, burying her face again into his neck. Lips quivering pathetically as she again locked around where his pulse should have been pounding.

A long awful moment passed. Stillness and the stark ugly reality of death around her.

_No. No. No. Not again._

“Please,” she sobbed, ugly gasps against his dirty skin, _“Please, God. Not again!”_

Mika’s lips began to _burn._


End file.
